


There's No Place

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Character Study, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Identity, Law Enforcement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 14:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6989800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark, darling of the Stark family, married to one then another Lannister, has been on the run for years with Petyr Baelish until she kills him. FBI Agent Brienne Tarth arrives to bring her home. Sansa doesn't think she knows what that word means anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No Place

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for mention of controlling behaviour and allusions to sexual assault.

 

 

 

 

When Sansa killed Petyr Baelish, there was a lot of blood. His hands had been under her dress and the memory of what he’d done before had flared through her and the knife one of the cleaning staff had smuggled into the house to her had suddenly been in her hand and then his face had made the strangest expression. Now there was only blood and his body slumped on the ground in front of her.

 

The silence seemed loud in Sansa’s ears. The knife was still clenched in her fingers and wasn’t there a signal she was supposed to give? She should move. Petyr wasn’t moving at all.

 

The door suddenly slammed open and a tall physically-imposing woman in a suit appeared, pointing a gun. One of the young men who worked for the catering company that Petyr always used appeared after her. He looked straight at Sansa and held his hands up, he wasn’t armed.

 

“You’re safe,” he said quietly, taking a little step forward. “You’re really safe, ma’am.”

 

He’d talked to her before when he’d been unpacking meals in Petyr’s kitchen. He’d told her that things would get better and she shouldn’t ever lose sight of that. He’d been so kind. Petyr hadn’t been there and the boy, Pod, hadn’t seemed to realise that there were security cameras everywhere in the house. But Petyr had never said anything to Sansa about it, not even once. Sansa had thought that was strange at the time.

 

The woman knelt to check Petyr’s pulse. Then she stood and tucked her gun away, retrieving a small transparent bag from her pocket. Her face was strong-featured and her eyes were beautiful and blue. She stood like she expected people to stare and as though she was more than ready.

 

“I need the knife, ma’am.”

 

Whoever this woman was, she was government agency of some kind. Sansa could see it now in how she positioned herself and how she'd entered the room and aimed her gun. Sansa should have seen it earlier, Petyr had always said...

 

Sansa’s fingers unclenched, the women deftly caught the knife in her bag, sealed it up and handed it to Pod. He looked pleased to be trusted with such important evidence. That was what it was.

 

“Call it in, Pod,” the woman told Pod, not looking away from Sansa.

 

Pod nodded and directed a reassuring look towards Sansa as he left the room. The woman let the silence wrap around them before speaking.

 

“Brienne Tarth, I work for the FBI.”

 

She produced a brown leather wallet and flipped it open to reveal an identity card and badge. They looked real enough. So did the blood now coloring Sansa’s skirts.

 

“We’re here to take you home.”

 

Home.

 

Sansa laughed slightly, as though Brienne had said something amusing. The sound was cracked, it wasn’t hysterical though, she’d been taught better than that. Brienne Tarth’s expression didn’t change; she just waited.

 

*

 

The world should have been a blur; instead it felt pin-sharp and bright. Sansa was escorted from the room where the man who had called himself her fiancé lay dead. Now Sansa stood in an upstairs bathroom where Brienne handed her a plain polo shirt and a long skirt that gathered at the waist. Sansa looked down at her own clothes and thought distantly  _I really liked them._

 

Brienne didn’t leave the room. Did a lot of witnesses try to escape? Or maybe they tried to hurt themselves. Sansa simply stripped off her skirt and matching top, then someone else appeared and began swabbing Sansa’s skin and taking photographs of her. They did something that, according to Brienne, would verify if Sansa had been raped. Sansa didn’t flinch.

 

It was just her and Brienne in the room again. Sansa changed into the clothes that Brienne had given her. They were clean and smelled of the detergent that Sansa’s mother had always used. Brienne snapped on a pair of gloves and carefully folded Sansa’s clothes into a large transparent bag. She wrote something on the label in neat block capitals.

 

Then she looked at Sansa, her expression slightly uncertain for the first time. A tell, a slip. Perhaps she thought Sansa hadn’t noticed. Sansa had been taught to notice everything.

 

_Everything will tell you something._

 

Sansa blinked away the memory and stared back. Brienne inclined her head slightly, more of her trained blankness falling away. Sansa felt as though she should be bracing herself.

 

“Your mother wanted you safe.”

 

Sansa blinked rapidly, too rapidly. Brienne Tarth had known her mother. For a moment, Sansa could see vivid crime scene photographs; Robb and her mother. The media had dubbed it The Red Wedding. Sansa didn't mind any of it, not anymore. What would be the point in minding, in caring? There was never any time or place for that.

 

Her voice was utterly even and inflectionless. “My mother is dead.”

 

Brienne’s direct gaze searched Sansa’s expression. “I promised her I would find you and make sure you were safe.”

 

Sansa raised her eyebrows only a fraction. Who else had her mother asked? Had she known she was going to die? Sansa pressed her lips together for a moment. She only nodded her head slightly. Safe. Was that was she was now?

 

*

 

Brienne was considerate and professional. She didn’t touch Sansa to guide her this way or that, she escorted Sansa out into an unmarked car, where Pod was waiting, just finishing a phone call. He and Brienne let Sansa have the backseat all to herself.

 

The world seemed unmarkable, passing by the car window as Brienne drove them away from the house that had been Sansa’s home for the past few months. Petyr had made sure she was comfortable, he had continued to show and tell her how to get what she wanted or rather what Petyr wanted. Sansa had liked it there, after some of the more uncomfortable places she and Petyr had lived. She had been linked to a handful of influential men who had lived in grander houses and on more impressive estates but no marriage had actually happened. She was still married to another man after all.

 

The car was stopping. Brienne opened the back door and Sansa slid gracefully out. They were parked behind a row of houses that looked as though they had seen better days. Pod was smiling. Sansa didn’t understand him at all. Brienne guided Sansa into one of the buildings. It was very plainly furnished and sat in one of the armchairs was Jamie Lannister.

 

Sansa froze for a tiny moment but then forced herself to walk forward, her expression smooth and unconcerned. “Mr Lannister.”

 

Jamie waved away her words with his remaining hand. He wasn't wearing his prosthetic, the sleeve was pinned shut. His clothes weren’t expensive; his eyes were tired and went straight to Brienne who glanced at him, intent but brief, before locking the door and turning to Sansa.

 

“He’s helping us with our inquiries.”

 

“Come now, wench, I’m a very significant part of your investigation.”

 

Brienne’s jaw tensed but she ignored him in favor of Sansa, “You’ll be taken to a safehouse tomorrow.”

 

Where she’d most likely be questioned because she’d killed her guardian, her fiancé. Yes, there would be questions. “Who’s going to question me?” Sansa asked abruptly.

 

Brienne only paused for a moment, “Unless orders change, me and Pod.”

 

Sansa nodded. Brienne had seen the room, so had Pod. Brienne nodded towards the kitchenette. “If you’re hungry-.”

 

“No, thank you.”

 

“Your room has an en-suite. Either Pod or I will be awake all night.”

 

That shouldn’t have comforted Sansa but she nodded and walked away from the strange little group that occupied the lounge. She climbed the stairs and pushed open doors until she found a bedroom with the en-suite. It was very plain. Sansa wondered who the house belonged to. She locked the door behind her.

 

She slept fitfully in her clothes and woke several times, trying to smudge blood off her or attempting to push away a man who wasn’t there anymore.

 

At one point, she left the room, gripped by the urge to walk, to stretch her legs. Perhaps because she could now without certain eyes on her, because she wanted to test that. She slipped down the stairs, well acquainted with quiet movement now, in search of a glass of water. The lounge door was open a crack; Jamie Lannister was sat beside Brienne, their knees not quite touching. Brienne was cleaning her gun; Jamie was saying something too quiet for Sansa to hear.

 

There was something softer about Brienne’s jaw and the expression on Jamie’s face wasn’t one that Sansa could ever remember seeing before. Something happened in her stomach. She stole away, her quest forgotten.

 

*

 

Sansa’s morning began with a knock at the door and Pod’s voice, “Breakfast is ready, ma’am. We’ll be leaving afterwards.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Sansa got up and entered the en-suite. She stared in the mirror. Her hair was still dark brown. She pulled off her clothes and took a thorough shower. There were special shampoos and conditioners provided. Brown dye ran down the plughole. Sansa watched it.

 

When she looked in the mirror again, for a brief moment she saw her mother. She saw fire.

 

*

 

Downstairs, Pod was laughing, drinking tea and fiddling with his phone. He smiled at Sansa and offered her a cup, Sansa accepted. Brienne was in the next door room, taking a phone call apparently. Jamie was nowhere to be seen.

 

Pod offered Sansa breakfast Sansa took half a grapefruit and a couple of slices of toast. Pod was companionable and didn’t look at her with pity or even curiosity. He told her that Brienne was a great partner and that she’d often spoken about fulfilling the promise that she’d made to Catelyn Stark. He looked in awe of Brienne.

 

Sansa ate her breakfast and drank her tea. She made sure that she didn’t think of her mother. Brienne entered the kitchen, wearing the same suit as the day before. She nodded at Sansa and accepted a strong cup of tea from Pod.

 

“We leave in ten minutes.”

 

Pod nodded and immediately began clearing up. He seemed very organized, Brienne obviously trusted him. Sansa finished her breakfast. She didn’t have a phone or a purse, she didn’t have anything to pack up and take away. It was all evidence now.

 

She sat at the breakfast bar, still and silent, as Pod and Brienne worked around her. Jamie joined her after five minutes, his hair wet. He didn’t stand too close, his gaze trained on Brienne for long periods of time.

 

“It’s good to see you well,” he said after a moment.

 

Sansa inclined her head, “I'm sorry about what happened to Joffrey.”

 

Her tone and expression were bland, even as Jamie sent her an incredulous look. His nephew had been her first love, her first husband. It had not been the happy fairytale marriage she'd dreamt of for too many years. Some of the scars that she’d received then still hadn’t faded. Joffrey was dead now; his dealings as the city’s youngest ever mayor had had killed him in the end. Petyr had made sure of that.

 

Brienne shut a briefcase with a resounding snap and led the way out of the house. She and Jamie sat up the front; Pod shared the backseat with Sansa. He offered her gum and a bottle of water and didn’t try to make small talk. Now the world felt like a blur, the most comforting one Sansa had experienced for a while. She kept her gaze trained out the window, as though she was interested in the view, as Brienne and Jamie talked, their words sharp.

 

*

 

The house was a fair way outside of the city. Brienne talked on the phone first and then headed inside. There was something homey about it, it felt at odds with what Sansa had expected. Jamie began raiding the fridge, Pod poked about in corners, checking something on his phone screen and nodding at Brienne.

 

Brienne looked at Sansa.

 

“Someone else is using this safehouse. I hope it won’t be a problem.”

 

There were footsteps. Sansa recognized them instantly. Something moved inside of her, suddenly and without consent. But her smile was only faint, vague, as though meeting an acquaintance, as Tyrion Lannister entered the room. The scars on his face had healed nicely and he was dressed better than Jamie for once. He looked at her with eyes that saw far too much.

 

“It’s fine,” Sansa told Brienne simply.

 

Brienne didn’t double-check. “If you’d like to have a drink or use the bathroom before we-.”

 

“I’m ready.”

 

Brienne nodded and Pod pulled a couple of recording devices out his pockets, setting them up on a nearby table. Jamie disappeared from the room, Tyrion beside him. Sansa watched them leave, her insides entirely calm again, as they should be. She took a seat at the table. She didn’t think about how she and her husband were under the same roof again, about Tyrion’s kindness after Joffrey’s cruelty.

 

Brienne asked incisive questions and Sansa answered, in detail; about how Petyr Belish had told her she would be arrested for Joffrey’s murder and so she would be safest with him, how it was what her mother would have wanted. She talked about meeting her aunt Lysa Tully, married to Petyr and not quite sane, how she had tried to kill Sansa and Petryr had killed her instead. Sansa talked about how she and Petyr had traveled incognito into the very furthest reaches of the city, where Sansa had once lived, and how Petryr had told she would gain revenge for her family’s demise.

 

She did not mention how she’d eventually recognized the look in his eyes. She didn’t mention how she’d trained herself to be still, how she’d used Petyr’s own lessons against him.

 

There’d been people working in the house every day – cleaners, caterers, gardeners. They’d remembered Sansa’s family, some had even worked for them once upon a time. They’d covertly promised to help her. Sansa had refused to put anyone in Petyr’s path.

 

It wasn’t long after that, less than a day, that Sansa had used the smuggled knife.

 

Brienne didn’t look shocked. She listened, asked more questions and then gestured for Pod to turn off the recorders. Pod left the room, leaving Brienne with Sansa.

 

“Margarey Tyrell is married to Tommen Baratheon,” Brienne told her, apros of nothing. “And Loras Tyrell and Renley Baratheon are safe and well.”

 

That was a shock. Sansa remembered Joffrey’s glee at hearing news of Renley’s death, one of the few who might have been able to oust him from power. Loras, charming beautiful Loras, had been Renley’s fiancé. He had been distraught at Renley’s death, he’d attempted suicide and had been arrested after some testimony arranged by Cersei Lannister. The story had been that he’d died in custody.

 

So it had been only a story after all. Petyr hadn’t been concerned about either of them, they were dead, what had they mattered to him? Sansa had liked Loras, Margarey’s brother and always good company. He’d made her smile and she’d enjoyed seeing him interact with Renley. It had spoken to her romantic ideas about love.

 

Even Renley’s death and Loras’ reaction to it had seemed romantic to her.

 

“That’s good,” was all Sansa said now, tucking away the sparks of warmth she felt at Brienne’s news.

 

“They’re both testifying, against Tywin and Cersei Lannister, as are Jamie and Tyrion.”

 

The Lannisters were imploding, as Petyr had always planned they would. Sansa nodded, tired suddenly, drained. Brienne produced a folded piece of paper and pushed it across the table with a single imposing finger.

 

“From Margarey.”

 

Was Margarey going to testify as well? Margarey had grown up with the sort of lessons that Sansa had only recently been introduced to. Margarey’s had been just as ruthless but they had shaped her rather than scarred her and she had always been incredibly self-possessed, as charming as her brother and even more influential. Sansa could imagine her easy inducing young Tommen Baratheon to marry her.

 

More sparks, so long forgotten, were making themselves known without any permission at all. Sansa found she couldn't stop them, that hadn't happened in years. She had missed Margarey. She took the letter and slid it into her pocket. She trembled ever so slightly.

 

She got to her feet, “Can I-?”

 

“Of course. Let Pod or I know if you need anything.”

 

Brienne was being entirely genuine, her words straightforward. She had made a promise to Catlyn Stark and had seen it through. Sansa hadn’t met anyone like Brienne in a very long time. It was unnerving.

 

There was another staircase for Sansa to climb. At the top, she tried a door and found clothes piled neatly on a bed, clothes that would fit her, feminine but practical. She didn't have to wonder who had chosen them. There was another en-suite. She checked the mirror, she was still there. Petyr was...Petyr was...

 

She showered for longer this time and closed her eyes under powerful spray. After, when she was dry, she put on a silk short-sleeved blouse and a matching knee-length skirt. She brushed her hair, a task that had always soothed her.

 

Her husband was here, the man who had 'agreed' to marry to her to tie their names and families together once Joffrey had decided on Margarey, because names were everything in this city and everything to the Lannisters who owned and controlled so much of it. He'd talked to her like she was an adult, he hadn't coddled her, his language had shocked her. He hadn't slept with her, despite his reputation. He'd begun to help her with her braids at night and in the morning (how long had it been since she'd worn her hair in any kind of braid?). She'd enjoyed his company, until Jofrrey had been killed and Petyr had whisked her away.

 

Tyrion was alive, they both were. Jamie Lannister was going to testify against his twin sister. Loras and Renley were alive. The sparks inside of her were growing. She fought them but she gasped too. A single harsh sound. She couldn't remember the last time she'd heard it.

 

Tyrion didn't disturb her that entire day.

 

Eventually, Sansa pulled Margarey's letter from her pocket and very slowly read it. It was hand-written and sparkled with Margarey's voice. She had missed Sansa and hoped that she was well, better now that Brienne had found her. Brienne was wonderful, according to Margarey, Cersei didn't know what to make of her or her bond with Jamie. Cersei was growing paranoid and even more vicious but hadn't realized the breadth of the case that was being made against her. Neither did her father. Margarey's formidable grandmother, Olenna, was going to make sure that Margarey and her husband were protected, as was Margarey. Sansa remembered feeling as though there was nothing the Tyrells couldn't do. Olenna Tyrell had always believed that aspects like her gender and age were attributes, not flaws. Sansa had admired that, especially when she'd witnessed the mountains that Olenna had seen moved.

 

Tommen sent Sansa his regards and wanted her to know that she was welcome to join them for a meal when she could. He remembered that she'd liked his kittens, so long ago.

 

_I can't wait to see you, Sansa. Once the trials are over, you, Loras and Renley can all come home._

 

Home. There was that word again.

 

Sansa stared at the letter for a long time. Sparks frittered away inside of her.

 

When she eventually emerged from her room, her hair long and smooth, her clothes perfect and pretty, she thought that she could hear Jamie and Brienne in the back yard, their voices rising and falling in a now-familiar pattern. Pod was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he was working.

 

There was a smell that made Sansa's stomach grumble. On the table where Sansa had answered Brienne's questions was a paper package of fresh lemon cakes. There was Tyrion, still dressed well, his eyes probably still seeing too much. He was tapping away at his phone. There was a large mug of tea at his elbow, probably sweetened the way she'd always liked it. He didn't look at her yet, giving her space and time to leave or stay.

 

Sansa looked at the lemon cakes, untouched bar one which Tyrion had eaten half of himself. Sansa thought about crime scene photos, her family's blood, a knife in her hand. She thought about whispered conversations with Margarey in beautiful gardens, Olenna's no-nonsense advice, Loras' laugh mixing with Renley's.

 

The sparks still weren't quiet. She thought about wearing her hair in intricate braids again.

 

_-the end_

 

 


End file.
